


Battle for Azeroth

by InkStainsOnMyHands



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - World of Warcraft Fusion, Crack Treated Seriously, Crush at First Sight, Fluff, Healing, M/M, Magic, Minor Violence, Secret Crush, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:13:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22776208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkStainsOnMyHands/pseuds/InkStainsOnMyHands
Summary: Ryan and Shane set in the World of Warcraft universe.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ‾\\_(ツ)_/‾
> 
> You don't really need to know much about WoW to find this story cute, but here are some references: 
> 
> [Setting](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QsZ9xkVQ_Vs)   
>  [Ryan Reference - Paladin Powers](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OgEPC3Vb2eM&)   
>  [Shane Reference - Rogue Powers]()

Shane Madej became a master rogue out of sheer and utter spite. 

Of course, Shane’s initial training had been incidental. The Madej’s were one of Tiragarde Sound’s oldest merchant families. As such, they were well accustomed to pirates and bandits attempting to thieve from their small fleet of cargo vessels at every opportunity. The family was not particularly wealthy or politically connected, therefore, they only had themselves as protection from these criminals. Each member faithfully learned their adversary’s tactics to defend their livelihood - but it wasn’t enough. 

In spite of his education, Shane had been ambushed as an adolescent, and it was only by the Light’s good fortune he hadn’t been kidnapped, murdered, or worse - drugged. After that dreaded night, he vowed never to allow anyone, including the blasted Light, to toss the coin of his fate again. Instead, to protect himself, he sought to hone his craft with a near-religious devotion to that pursuit. 

Shane’s training took him all throughout Kul Tiras. Using his wit and daggers, he collected a growing set of skills by thwarting the dark underbelly of his homeland. Ultimately, his questing led him to the picturesque town of Brennadam - while it was under siege by the Horde. Admittedly, this was not where Shane imagined he would end. 

Shane was no warrior, but he could not turn a blind eye to the suffering inflicted upon his people. He crept between long shadows, quietly putting out fires, stealing supplies, and leading citizens away from the battle while Storm’s Wake fought on the frontlines. He only used his weapons when necessary. Even then, he had stabbed more backs and slit more throats than he had the energy for. By the end of the night, he operating on pure willpower alone. 

The Horde, those bastards, took advantage of his weakened state. Unwittingly, Shane allowed himself to be discovered, uncloaked when he threw an azerite bomb towards a group of flamethrowing goblins. Unforgiving of this mistake, a warlock caught him in the back with a bolt of fel magic, bringing him to his knees. 

However, it was an axe, nearly cleaving his torso in two, that was meant to take his life. Worse yet, the Light-damned Orc wielding it didn’t have enough of his people’s  _ precious honor _ to finish the fucking job. Shane was forced to suffer the indignation of dying slowly, covered in mud and horse shit, while his guts spilled between his leather-bound fingers. 

Then, just as Shane felt the last of his haggard breathing fade from his lips, a beam of white light descended upon his shivering body, blinding him. The ache in his lungs abated, his heart began to steady to an even pumping, and gore stopped leaking against his hands. 

It was a miracle, but Shane’s primary focus was not on his self-stitching flesh. No, that was secondary to the complete  _ peace _ that had washed over him like a tidal wave of pure warmth. It was difficult to grasp just how he could have ever felt anger, or sorrow, or fear when such joy, when such  _ love _ , existed in the world. Pure bliss lit the very depths of his soul, illuminating every dark cavern and crevice he kept hidden from the outside world. Numerous impurities were found and burned away, but despite his faults, there was no shame. Shane could only find forgiveness and a promise that he would be made whole again. 

It was unlike anything the rogue had ever experienced in his life. 

The radiance eventually faded into a dying glow. Shane opened his eyes without the fear they would be seared out of his skull. To his shock, his sight did not meet the Bastion, but the crumbling stables of Brennadam. Sensing a presence, he turned his head to the side to find a glimmering angel, surrounded in gold, kneeling over him. 

Shane had never seen a more beautiful creature! The being had a masculine visage with almost delicate features that suggested a distant elven ancestry. Almond-shaped eyes of melted chocolate sat above a slim nose and a full mouth Shane desired to feel beneath his own lips. Upon his cheeks and chin, an attractive dusting of dark hair matched the sweat-soaked locks upon his head. 

Wait, sweat-soaked? 

Upon further inspection, Shane realized the luster over this man was not of supernatural origin, but that of polished plate armor. This was no divine being! How could he have ever thought such a thing? 

Internal flames of shame licked at Shane’s cheek. “Thank you, paladin,” he croaked in spite of his growing embarrassment. 

“Ryan,” the champion responded with a good-natured smile. 

Bemused, Shane raised an eyebrow at him. 

“My name is Ryan. Ryan Bergara. What may I call you?” 

“Shane Madej.” 

“Shane,” Ryan replied, testing the name on his tongue. (Shane appreciated the way his moniker fell from his lips.) After a heartbeat, he nodded. “I’m with the Alliance. We’re here to help drive back the Horde assault on your home.” 

Ryan pushed himself off of his knees and came to stand over Shane. He held his hand out. 

Shane took the palm that was offered, staggering back onto his feet. 

“Quickly, we must rejoin the battle. We’ve nearly pushed them back to the hillside,” Ryan announced with a grin that suggested his victorious sentiment rang true. 

“I’m not one for the frontlines,” Shane countered automatically. Strangely, the words sounded hollow coming from his own tongue. Something about this paladin summoned a courage he wasn’t aware he had. 

“Neither am I, hero,” Ryan admitted. “But we’ll be surrounded by friends. Come!” His handguards creaked as he squeezed Shane’s hand in reassurance. It was then that the taller man realized they hadn’t let go of each other.

Haltingly and with some effort, Shane pulled away from Ryan, as if he were magnetized to the other champion. Ryan twisted towards the fading orange firelight of battle before racing toward it, sword drawn and a cry of “For the Alliance!” on his lips. 

Without a moment’s hesitation, Shane chased after the paladin, daggers in hand. Though he hadn’t the faintest idea why, Shane realized that from then on he would follow Ryan anywhere. 


	2. Chapter 2

Leaning against a storm-battered lamp post, Shane observed Boralus Harbor from the top of Tradewinds Market. The clear setting sun caught the deep blues and greens of the tranquil water below, causing them to shimmer as if they were fractured pieces of azerite floating upon the sea. At the notion of the coveted gems, his eye travelled upward to the magnificent lion-crested sails of a moored Wind’s Redemption - a symbol of pride for the Alliance navy.

The Kul Tiran rogue was forced to admit that the Kingdom of Stormwind had crafted an impressive ship, even compared to the Proudmoore Admiralty’s standards. Regardless of his begrudging respect, however, he would never convey his admiration to his new paladin friend. There was no need to further add to Ryan’s fanatical devotion to his homeland, not if he had any hope of convincing him to stay in Tiragarde Sound for just a little while longer. 

As if summoned by Shane’s internal pining, Ryan nudged his taut side with a mug of ale from The Snug Harbor Inn, causing the rogue to jump in surprise. Shane had to take a moment to adjust to the unfamiliar spike of adrenaline, willing his galloping heart to slow and his hand to separate from his blade’s leather holster. 

“You alright there, big guy?” Ryan asked, beautiful brown eyes softening with concern. 

“Y-yeah.” Shane swallowed and accepted Ryan’s gift of alcohol with quaking fingers. “Sorry.”

By all rights, Shane should have known Ryan was approaching him the moment he exited the inn. Unlike Shane’s light leatherwear, Ryan’s heavy regalia was meant to be more intimidating than stealthy. Much to Shane’s chagrin, Ryan’s plate armor creaked and groaned if he did so much as breathe, alerting every Horde guard and ravenous creature in their vicinity while on shared missions. The fact the man could sneak up on him, especially accidentally, was further proof his newfound affection eroded the instincts that had once contributed to his continued survival. 

And Shane couldn’t find it in himself to care. He would gladly accept a knife in the back if it meant a moment of holding Ryan in his arms. 

“Thanks, little guy,” Shane murmured before offering the lip of his mug to Ryan. “To defeating the Banshee Queen.” 

Ryan laughed as he clinked his mug with Shane’s. They had celebrated Sylvanas’ defeat every night for weeks. It had become somewhat of a joke that never seemed to grow tired if the paladin’s mirth was any indication. (Although, a bone-melting sense of relief could have been the catalyst for his unbridled sense of humor. Shane would never understand why someone so fearful of ghouls, ghosts and demons became a paladin of all professions.)

Just as Shane brought his ale to his lips, a guard wearing the familiar silver steel of Stormwind’s armor jogged up the stairs beside them. He zipped to Ryan, saluting him as he came to a bumbling stop. 

“Champion Bergara,” the guard greeted Ryan breathlessly. 

“King’s favor, friend,” Ryan greeted back, if hesitantly. “Do you have news?” 

“Yes,” the guard breathed out. He handed Ryan a piece of parchment sealed with a Wrynn house stamp, which the paladin tore open with a frenzied urgency. “Our king requests your presence at once to address an urgent matter.” 

Cold disappointment dropped into Shane’s stomach with the heft of a lead weight. He knew there would be no persuading Ryan to ignore a direct order from the boy king. If there was anything Ryan loved more than Stormwind, it would always be Anduin Wrynn. 

Of course, it was foolish to compare himself to Ryan’s ultimate superior, but acknowledging it didn’t make his jealousy sting any less. 

Ryan re-rolled the orders in his hands. Determination wrote itself on the features of his masculine visage. “We’ll depart immediately,” he confirmed. Ryan returned the parchment to the guard before peering up at Shane. 

Shane felt something grip his sternum. His mouth gaped. Surely, Ryan couldn’t mean…?

“Come on, Shane. We have to head to the portal room immediately,” Ryan started. Despite the anxiety over his brow, the paladin scoffed, ‘It looks like we have an Old God to subdue.” 

Shane felt his lips curl over his teeth in a grin.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Ry'an reference](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0H-thX7BUz8)   
>  [Shaen reference](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b215Y8QgA3Y)

Shaen inspected the intricate filigree of his staff as he propped his slender shoulder against the stone mouth of a bunker they were guarding. As per usual, the Horde thoroughly demolished any resistance the Alliance supplied at their pitiful stronghold, but left their prize largely undefended. If not for Shaen and his Orcish companion, Ry’an, it would be available for any Alliance trash to reclaim. 

Regardless of his itch to rejoin the larger throng of champions, taking and claiming more Alliance resources with laughable ease within this “battleground”, the blood elf was forced to stay put until the bunker was thoroughly burned, destroyed beyond functional use by the Stormpike Guard.  _ Should only be a few more minutes. _

The low warble of a cloak being drawn pricked at Shaen’s long, pointed ears. In vain, his glowing fel-green gaze darted over the snow-covered hills surrounding them, unable to find a trace of the threat that he was sure loomed close by.  _ Shit _ . He clicked his tongue twice, the signal for his felguard to emerge from the shadows within the curved building. 

Shaen didn’t miss the way Ry’an shifted, his deep set amber eyes locked on the broad, grey-skinned, armor-clad demon holding a battle axe beside him. He hated his companion’s discomfort, avoided this particular soreness at all costs under normal circumstances. However, they had little time to play these foolish games. Ry’an’s people’s destructive history with demons be damned, they had rewards to collect. 

“Did you hear that?” Shaen hissed beneath his breath. 

Ry’an shook his head. “You know I don’t have your keen sense of hearing, knife ears.” 

Shaen scoffed, staff shimmering with a purple glow twirling from hand to hand. “It sounds like a rogue is about to make a mistake, little tusks.” 

At the pet name, Ry’an released a rumbling chuckle from his thick throat. “Spirits! How many times - they are quite average in size, I assure you.” 

Shaen grinned, aware his protests were merely for the benefit of his entertainment. He was gladdened the small Orc had long since lost his sensitivity over his perceived inadequacy, especially since the “defect” made it easier to kiss his beloved shaman. Though this particular bit of affection had perplexed Shaen’s mate at first, he had grown to enjoy joining their mouths together. Or, so the Orc had once claimed after a vigorous session of love making. 

Shaen, so caught in his reverie, hadn’t realized a shimmering ball of plate had bum-rushed his side until its massive sword bounced off the protective enhancements he had placed upon his black silk robes. Thankfully, his magic had prevented his flesh from being rend through. The only damage came from being knocked prone, dazing him for a second. Although, to his horror, this momentary distraction gave a dark-haired human wrapped in a golden halo enough opportunity to strike at his shaman. 

A paladin, then? 

While Shaen came to a stand, using his staff for balance, he commanded his felguard to protect his lover. In spite of his demon’s best efforts to do as it was bidded, watching the felguard attack the paladin was akin to watching a fly buzz about a Tauren’s backside. The paladin ignored the demon’s insistent attacks bouncing off his invisible shielding and continued to strike at Ry’an. 

To Ry’an’s credit, he fought with an equal intensity to the paladin, calling upon lightning to shield his body as he sundered the earth beneath his opponent to unbalance him. His twin axes, imbued with the very essence of fire, deflected sword strike after sword strike. If steel met any green skin, the wound was soothed away by water magic in a near instant. At the same time, however, beams of shimmering light stitched any torn human olive-toned flesh just as quickly. Victory was not assured for either champion. 

_ Enough! _ Shaen whispered under his breath, calling upon his own powers to summon a bolt of pure demonic energy in his unoccupied hand. The violet-tinged spell was volatile, difficult to wrangle properly, and powerful enough to bring down a human with just one blow. Once it was properly controlled, he began to chant the last of the incantation - only to have a leatherbound hand clamped over his mouth. 

Shaen was forced to swallow back his invocation. Something, which he could only imagine was the tip of a blade given his vantage point, pricked the delicate skin of his neck. The sting caused him to hiss between his teeth in both fury and frustration. Damn, he should have anticipated the rogue. 

“I don’t think so, spell-chucker,” his captor, using unaccented Common, hissed in his ear. His triumph was barely vieled behind his bared teeth. 

By the twisting nether, Shaen hadn’t realized humans came in such a size. The man nearly towered _over_ the naturally long blood elf. _Not from Stormwind, perhaps?_ Regardless of his origin, there would be no overpowering this human by sheer strength alone. 

“How’re you doing, Ryan?” the rogue called out over Shaen’s shoulder. 

The paladin was forced onto his knees to parry a twin strike from above. “I’m okay,” he replied, voice strained. Shaen took some satisfaction that the little paladin had underestimated his mate and struggled to hold his own against the shaman. 

The rogue stiffened, more than likely realizing, as Shaen did, that his counterpart’s energy was running low. The knife at his throat pressed in just a bit further. “You’re going to tell your friend to stand down, warlock,” the rogue growled. 

Shaen hesitated. He could pretend he didn’t understand Common. It would be unusual for a blood elf to be unacquainted with the human tongue, but not impossible.  _ And we just need a little more time.  _

“I know you can understand me,” the rogue barked, hot, desperate breath puffing from his mouth. With each word, he agitated Shaen’s shoulders. “Tell the Orc to stand down or I’m going to add another killing blow to brag about at the end of this battleground. Got it?” 

Shaen laughed. That was the crux of it, wasn’t it? This was a battleground, a glimpse into the past by way of dragon meddling. The stakes were low. If they should die, they would simply be revived, harm done only to their pride pockets. 

Regardless, the trauma of seeing a companion, a lover, a life mate, ashen and no longer breathing was terribly, achingly real. The fear of such a sight made it impossible to make objective decisions, much to the chagrin of party leaders who would scream to leave the wounded behind. Time after time, he had seen friends and families retain positions contrary to their strategic plans in order to protect the ones they loved, as if they forgot that they would appear in the graveyard moments later. 

In truth, it would be better for the rogue to simply kill Shaen, even if it meant Ry’an crushing the paladin to dust as he did so. It would be a point in the Alliance’s favor, and he could simply cloak himself to avoid an additional fight with his shaman. I would be the more intelligent action to take at this moment between victory and defeat. 

The rogue snapped, “Do it!” 

Shaen nodded, dropping his staff to the ground in a show of good faith. Dying wasn’t exactly pleasant no matter the circumstances. If there was an option to survive this encounter, why not take it? 

The cover over his face lifted a heartbeat later. “Stand down,” the elf croaked in Orcish. 

The request met little resistance. Ry’an leapt away almost eagerly from the quivering paladin on the ground. 

Just then, the familiar roar of flames began to roll. An unbearable burst of heat warmed over Shaen’s back. The elf smirked; these morons were too late - the bunker was destroyed! And soon, Horde victory would be assured over Alterac Valley. 


	4. Chapter 4

Thick clothing was a necessity all year round in Boralus. Rare were the days when a fur-lined jacket could be left at home without its owner risking severe discomfort. Although Shane was already accustomed to the temperamental weather, he sacrificed complete mobility in favor of keeping warm with an overcoat. Even for a rogue, fluidity was absolutely useless if they died of exposure after all. 

As such, the deck of the  _ Wind’s Redemption _ was always quite cool. Shane suspected Master Shaw huddled in on himself behind the Alliance War Table to conserve heat rather than to appear more intimidating. 

(Although, Shane noted that  _ any _ posture would be quite superfluous for the spy to use to appear more menacing. The redhead had a resting scowl that could terrify entire armies. It was difficult not to envy that quality.) 

Shane concluded, then, that the sweat rolling down Ryan’s neck could only be due to nerves. His eyes darted over the stone pieces symbolizing supplies and soldiers upon the war map. A set of missions needed to be completed, and it was up to Ryan to decide how best to allocate resources toward those efforts. Such a responsibility seemed to be quite the daunting task to place upon champions with little military experience, but as Ryan explained, they knew the territory best. 

Regardless, Shane knew Ryan had difficulties with deciding the fate of so many souls. They lived or died based on his strategic command. If not for his king’s expectations, Shane doubted Ryan would continue to put himself through this. 

There had to be some way to boost his morale, but any joke or prank committed would be seen more like a slight than a positive gesture. Maybe if he performed it on someone else? 

Shane’s line of sight drifted from the War Table to Shaw. He was freezing, focused on Ryan’s fidgeting, and if rumor was to be believed, relaxed from a night spent with a certain ex-pirate. Therefore, the spymaster was quite the  _ distracted  _ potential target. 

“Master Shaw,” Shane called out. He made a “come forward” gesture with his first two fingers. “If you would please, I’d like to show you something on the map.” 

To Shane’s surprise, the spymaster did not appear perturbed by the request, his expression remaining neutral as he walked around the wide table to stand next to the Kul Tiran. Though Shane’s first instinct was to mentally admonish Shaw for his show of trust, he forced himself to squash the notion. Trust was not a negative. Trust was good. Trust won loyalties and comrades. Trust was the foundation of his relationship with Ryan. 

And trust made it easier to slip his fingers inside Shaw’s back pocket. Shane had little trouble splitting his attention between seeking a tangible prize and pointing out an important, yet unprotected, trade route along the southern border of the sound. With relative ease, Shane lifted away what felt like a coin from Shaw’s possession. Swiftly, he placed the object in his own coat sleeve before the tiny possession could be missed. All the while, he implored the Alliance council member to send spies to gather intel on Kul Tiran port operations.  _ Two-for-one. _

In the time it took for Shaw to agree to consider the measure, Ryan declared that he had completed his evaluations. 

Shane had to keep himself from skipping off the  _ Wind’s Redemption _ . 

  
  


The Tradewinds Market was quite crowded, as was usual on a clear sunny day. Lined along the boardwalk, a diverse set of outdoor vendors hawked their wares in a multitude of different languages. Thick throngs of all kinds of people meandered through their stalls and stations in a bid to barter for items ranging from baked goods to weapon sets. Shane appreciated the utter chaos, as it would drown out his voice in a sea of shouts, hoots, and hollers. 

As they walked towards a blacksmith by his kiln, Shane commented easily, “I’m not too sure about your vaunted Alliance if their best spy can be pick-pocketed so easily.” 

Out of his peripheral, he could see Ryan raising a single eyebrow in his direction. “What are you talking about?” 

Shane paused his steps and turned toward his companion; Ryan mirrored him. The rogue’s deft fingers retrieved the prize he had hidden within a custom compartment in his coat sleeve. He produced a gold coin and waved it inches from Ryan’s face. “Took this right out of good old Master Shaw’s back pocket. You might want to give this back to him when you have the chance.” 

For a split moment, Ryan’s eyes widened and his mouth gaped as he accepted the coin flipped into his awaiting palms. Then, just as the medallion met his gauntlets, Ryan’s expression melted back into something more neutral. A wry smile graced his lips. “Oh! Sure, yes, I’ll give this right back to him the next time I see him.” 

Any pride that had bloomed in Shane’s chest was extinguished by Ryan’s apparent disbelief. He released a breath and pouted. “What? You don’t believe me? “ 

“Of course I believe you!” Ryan exclaimed with some theatrics. “I promise, I’ll return this to Master Shaw as soon as I can.” 

Ryan made a show of pressing the medallion into his coin purse. The paladin grinned, flashing his brilliant white teeth at Shane. 

Despite himself, Shane returned the expression, unable to conjure too much disappointment for the turn of events. He supposed he had accomplished his ultimate goal of raising Ryan’s spirits. Yes, at the cost of his own pride, but there were much higher prices Shane was willing to pay to see Ryan happy. 


End file.
